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Tuesday, October 4, 2011

#277 Open To Find the Out


If tears could make a puddle
And come down like rain
Wash away the fear
Take away the pain
I'd drink that salt water
Then curse cruel and profane

Sadness is weak
Compassion is feeble
Empathy is for chicks

It's a torturous cell
That we make for ourselves
Trying to live up to expectations
Locked in our little boxes
Afraid of change

In this pile
Of ten thousand keys
One must open the door

Which one?

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